Forgive Me
by AbbyO
Summary: More Post-The Telling angst...


**Title: **Forgive Me

**Author:** Abby O. (abbyo3@hotmail.com)

**Category:** S/V Angst

**Rating:** PG

**Spoilers:** Post-The Telling

**Disclaimer:** Nope, ain't mine. If they were, then Vaughn wouldn't be wearing that ring on his finger. 

**Feedback:** Puhleaaase?? :-)

**A/N:** Noooo not another angsty story! LOL. I couldn't help myself…I'm still going through New!Episode!Withdrawal. Sorry it's so short. I just felt the need to write something.

She sat in front of me looking more lost than I've felt for the past two years. The tears streamed endlessly down her face and at that moment, there was nothing more I wanted to do than reach out and brush them away. I hold back, knowing how wrong it would be and at the same time, not wanting to admit how undeniably right it would feel. She sat in front of me, her eyes transfixed on the gold band around my ring finger. The urge I received to pull the offensive piece of jewelry off when I first got the phone call that she was alive seems to have multiplied by a ridiculous number. The ring feels heavy and out of place; it feels as if it's searing through my fingers right down to the bone. Instead of it being a symbol of love and commitment, in the past few hours, it's taken on a whole new different meaning. 

I clench my fist and turn my hand so that she won't have to look at it…oh, what a nice guy I am. Spare her the pain of your betrayal by trying to hide it. I look at her and beg her to say something, anything, but her eyes say everything she needs me to hear. I know she can't bear to look at me right now but she's searching for the light she saw in me before her disappearance. I've hid it well. She wonders if I'm still in love with her. She doesn't ask, but the burning desire to know is unmistakable. I can't tell her, but the answer is 'yes.' I'm more in love with her than she could ever know.

"Who is she?" she asks, her eyes determined and fiery.

The question seems to echo in my head and my throat becomes dry. How could I ever explain this to her? What could I possibly say to make this better? "Sydney…"

"Who is she."

"Lindsay Johnson," I say quietly as my heart rips even further in two. I suddenly feel the need to wipe my lips of Lindsay's kisses, to wash my body of her touch. It's not supposed to feel this way. I'm supposed to love her and cherish her yet the feeling of guilt and regret is overwhelming. I love her. I do, but I didn't love her the way she deserved to be loved. Only the woman sitting in front of me deserved that kind of love and more…

"For how long?" she whispers.

"A week," I answer. "We were on our honeymoon when I got the call."

She nodded ruefully and her eyes found the ceiling then the floor. "I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Sydney, please…" I cry softly, my gaze desperate and evasive.  _You're so beautiful,_ I remember telling you over and over. That hasn't changed, but it hurts so much to see that I've hurt you. 

"I need to be alone."

Finally, my eyes meet hers and any grasp of reason I had inside of me crumbles. I'm so sorry, Sydney. I'm so sorry…you have to believe me…please…

I find myself screaming inside a torrent of apologies; apologies that would have fallen deaf upon her ears had I said them. Now's not the time to explain. She needs to be alone… She turns away and I get up from my seat. Slowly, I leave the room, wondering how long it would be until she can smile for me again.

* * * * * * *

Two weeks after the night she came back, I decided that I needed to talk to her. She pretty much knew of the changes that have occurred while she was gone. I sometimes caught glimpses of her in the office in between the debriefings. I asked Weiss periodically how she was doing when he goes to get her some coffee. He tried to assure me that she's fine but I know that she's not. For once, there isn't a damn thing I can do.

I call her cell phone and get her machine. Her house produces the same result. I get into my car and start driving, letting my hands lead me instinctively to places that she might be. I can't help but be worried and nervous at the same time. After finding the observatory and hockey rink closed, I continue my drive and get a phone call from Lindsay.

"Michael, where are you?"

"I'm out running errands."

"At ten o'clock at night?"

"Lindsay, I'll be home, I promise."

There's a silence on the other end. "I'm worried about you, sweetie…"

I sigh. I can't have this conversation right now. "I'm fine."

"You haven't been the same since you got called to Hong Kong and I deserve to know what's going on."

"You will, eventually. Just…not now."

"Then when?"

"Soon. I'll talk to you when I get home."

"Okay, I love you, Michael."

"…bye."  I click my phone off and rub my face, feeling even more frustrated. This wasn't fair to her…or to Sydney. God, someone just tell me what to do. I need to know how to fix this if that's even possible. At the moment, it feels like the most impossible thing in the world.

* * * * * * *

I shut the engine off and take a deep breath. I parked a few spaces away from her car in the virtually empty parking lot of the pier. The ocean waves are almost comforting as I make my way towards the very same spot we had stood in the night she called me. Her arms are rested on the railing as she watches the reflection of the moon shimmer on the calm waters of the Pacific. Tentatively, I stand next to her, my hands jammed into the confines pockets. She doesn't have to turn her eyes to know that I'm there. It seemed as if eternity had passed as we stood next to each other, wordless and motionless.

"It's late," she murmurs.

"I needed to see you."

She turns her head and looks at me, revealing the mixture of burning anger and pain painted vividly on her face. Her gaze stings and it takes all my willpower to keep myself from turning away. "Why?"

I fall silent.

"Why did you need to see me?" she repeats with a quieter yet fiercer intensity than before.

"Things can't be like this," I say. "I've barely had a decent conversation with you ever since we flew back to LA and I know that part of that is my fault, but…I needed to see if you were really okay."

"Thanks for the concern, but you don't need to worry. Go home."

Stop making this so difficult, Sydney. I absent-mindedly run a hand through my hair as the noise of the crashing waves become deafening. "No," I firmly say.

"You're wasting your time."

"Never _once_ were you _ever_ a waste of my time and that's certainly not going to start now."

"From what I gather, you didn't waste _any time replacing me."_

"Sydney, that's not what I did! God, I wish I could make you understand…I was a disaster when I lost you! I couldn't tell left from right, I couldn't do my job...everything in my life was turned upside-down. I didn't give up on you!"

The tears begin to burn her eyes again as she tries to blink them away. It's a lost cause. "Instead, you found another woman, got married and lived happily ever after, right?" she spat, letting out a remorseful chuckle through her crying.

"Sydney, I never stopped loving you," I say, begging her to understand somehow. "But I couldn't live like that. I couldn't take it anymore…I needed to move on."

"And you did. Congratulations." She swats at the bothersome moisture on her cheeks and begin heading the opposite direction.

"Sydney, don't you dare walk away from me!" I pleaded, my fingers gently finding her wrist. She pulls her hand away faster than I could blink and the motion cuts even deeper inside of me.

Her vehement stare bores into me and I feel as if I'm the smallest person in the world. "Go home to your wife, Vaughn. You don't owe me anything." With that, she continued to walk away, leaving me standing there cold and hopelessly broken. She needed to know that she had it all wrong.

He owed her everything.

* * * * * *

The End


End file.
